Cast No Blame
by phoenixqueen
Summary: Peter and Edmund are about to learn the power of love and forgiveness. Companion piece/sequel to "Suffer With Him". Small angst alert! Brotherfic.


**Cast No Blame**

_**Disclaimer**__: I do not own anything in this story, it is all the marvelous creation of C.S. Lewis. I am making no profit on this story, I am simply doing it because the plot bunnies have been invading my home and I need to chase them out as quickly as I can (they're eating all my food!)._

_**Summary**__: Peter and Edmund learn the power of love and forgivness. Companion piece / sequel (of sorts) to my one-shot "Suffer With Him". If you haven't read that one first, you should. This one can stand alone, but it makes more sense with my previous fic._

_**Rating**__: M (just to be on the safe side). There's some mild swearing and quite a bit of angst._

_**Part of a series?**__: Possibly. I'm still debating whether or not to do two more stories that focus on Susan's and Lucy's points of view. Definitely a duet, if nothing else._

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_**"Why all this commotion and wailing? The child is not dead, but asleep."**_

_**- Mark 5:39**_

"Peter, awaken."

The soft voice, yet still full of power and authority, drew him awake. His eyes opened slowly and blinked several times at the darkness surrounding him. He wasn't sure where he was, since he couldn't see anything through the utter blackness. He was lying on something hard, although it felt as if there was a pillow beneath his head. His arms were crossed over his chest (a position that he never slept in), and they were stiff. Groaning softly, he unfolded his arms, only to realize that his hands were clasped around the hilt of his sword, which had been lying on top of him. More puzzled than ever, he pulled himself upright, swinging his legs off of whatever he was lying on.

A faint hint of sunlight was coming from his right and he looked in that direction. A large, indistinguishable form was standing there, with the light behind him, casting the figure in silhouette. Peter rose to his feet and walked toward the figure, raising a hand to shield his face as the sunlight hit his eyes. He blinked rapidly several times and a moment later was able to make out the identity of the form in front of him.

He swiftly knelt, resting his sword point-first in the grass as his hands held the hilt. "Aslan."

"Rise, High King," the beloved voice said gently. The golden lion stood there, the fading light that was forcing its way past the tightly interwoven willow branches gleaming off his coat and surrounding him in a pure, fiery halo. Peter rose to his feet and stood before the great lion, waiting for his next command.

Aslan simply stood there, watching Peter, a fond smile on his face.

Peter glanced around, looking for his siblings, but seeing that he and Aslan stood alone in the grove. He frowned, puzzled as to what was going on. It took him several moments to figure out where he was, but he finally recognized it as the willow grove that stood at the edge of the cliff outside Cair Paravel. He frowned and turned to look behind him. A small stone building stood there, the wooden door open, the sunlight not strong enough to pierce the darkness inside. Black banners had been hung from a small ledge that ran above the door and they hung down on either side of the doorway.

Peter paled slightly. He recognized the building, although he'd never had cause to go inside it. This was the tomb where all the Kings and Queens of Narnia from before the White Witch's rule had been buried, beginning with King Frank and his Queen. _But…why would I be here? Where are Edmund, Susan, and Lucy? What's going on_?

"Aslan? What is going on?" he asked, voicing the question that was on his mind. "Where are my sisters and brother?"

"What do you remember?" Aslan replied calmly.

Peter thought back, trying to pin down his last memory. He remembered standing at the gates to the palace and watching Susan and Lucy ride out to visit Owlwood. Since Owlwood was part of the Eastern Marches of Narnia, it fell under Lucy's area of responsibility, and ever since they had taken the thrones three years ago, Lucy had made a point of visiting all the areas within her area of governance at least once a year. Susan usually went with her, just to keep her sister company, and Peter and Edmund had stayed behind to handle anything that might come up while their sisters were gone.

"Susan and Lucy left for Owlwood," Peter said slowly, chasing the memory down. "Edmund and I spent the next few days tending to the minor matters that had come up and training with Oreius." He looked expectantly at Aslan. "What happened, Aslan?" A surge of fear went through him. "Did something happen to Edmund? Why am I here?"

Aslan shook his head. "It is for your brother to tell you. Know only that it has been a time of great grief for your family and your people. They will need your support in the coming days as much as you will need theirs." That being said, the lion turned and began to walk out of the grove.

Utterly confused, Peter picked up his sword and followed the great lion. The branches of the willows were tightly woven and pushing through them took some time. As he drew closer to the edge of the grove, the light grew brighter, despite the fact that it was nearly sunset. He had just reached the outermost row of trees when he heard Aslan speaking again, although it didn't appear that he was speaking to Peter. The High King paused to listen, squinting against the sunlight until he could see Aslan standing in front of Edmund.

"Always remember, Son of Adam. A heart at peace gives life to the body." With those words, Aslan turned away from Edmund, leaving the younger boy standing there watching him leave. Peter could see the signs of grief on his brother's face, in the red, swollen eyes and tear-streaked cheeks. Whatever had caused that grief tore at Peter's heart.

Stepping forward out of the willow grove, Peter moved towards his brother. "Edmund?"

The younger King froze, his back to the grove, before he swayed on his feet. Peter stepped forward more quickly, ready to catch Edmund in case he fainted. Slowly, Edmund turned around and spotted Peter moving towards him. His eyes widened and as Peter reached him, Edmund threw himself into Peter's arms. Peter stumbled backwards under the force of his brother's lunge, as Edmund buried his face in Peter's shoulder.

"Peter…" the younger boy whispered. "Oh, Aslan…thank you…" A moment later, Peter felt moisture soaking through his clothing and realized that his brother was sobbing quietly.

"Edmund?" Peter asked, utterly confused. "What's going on?" Fear clenched at his heart. "Where are Susan and Lucy?"

Edmund looked up, tears tracking down his face. But through the tears, there was a look of surprise on the other King's face. "Don't you remember, Peter?"

Peter shook his head. "No, Edmund. The last thing I remember is saying goodbye to Susan and Lucy before they left for Owlwood, and then going out to the practice fields with you and Oreius to train. What happened? Why was I in the tomb?"

Edmund moved to wipe his eyes. "You…" the younger boy hesitated, as if searching for the right words, and Peter knew something was wrong. Even though they had not been Kings for very long, ever since taking the throne, Edmund had become much more confident and rarely hesitated or stuttered when he spoke anymore. Now he only did so when something was deeply troubling him.

"Ed, spit it out," Peter commanded him quietly.

"Oreius had both of us run through our sword drills, and then he assigned us to do a live steel sparring match. Do you remember that, Peter?" Edmund asked instead.

Peter thought back again and slowly nodded, remembering watching his brother's skillful execution of his dual-sword drills after he had finished working with Rhindon in his own drills.

"We…we fought…there…there was a…an accident…" Edmund said, his voice halting and soft. He seemed to be having difficult forcing the words out, and his eyes were beginning to fill with tears again.

"Ed, whatever happened, I'm not going to be angry," Peter promised. "Just tell me."

"I killed you!" Edmund finally wailed.

Peter froze as the memories suddenly crashed into his mind.

_He was thoroughly enjoying this. He loved sparring with his brother, especially when they didn't have an audience watching them. When it was just Edmund, Oreius, and Peter himself. That was when they could really have fun, without the pressure of eyes on them and having to hold themselves up as an example, just because they were the Kings._

_Peter easily sidestepped as Edmund tried a sneaky little move, attacking with one of his swords before using the second one. He found himself suddenly raising his shield to block, however, since it turned out that the second one had been a feint as well._

"_Good, Ed!" Peter exclaimed, easily blocking the real attack by catching it on his shield. "You almost got me that time!" Of course, he wasn't going to let Edmund get away with that, and sent a flurry of blows towards his brother with Rhindon. Edmund gave way, having been tagged a few too many times with Rhindon's shining steel in the past._

_In his brother's scramble to avoid Rhindon, Peter could see that he had left himself open on his right side. He pressed forward, forcing Edmund to continue moving back, and then, unexpectedly, he lunged forward, thrusting Rhindon towards his brother's exposed side for the blow that would end the match._

_Unfortunately, Edmund was quicker than he appeared to be, and dodged easily out of the way, leaving Peter over-extended and vulnerable. Peter scrambled to get his feet back under him, to get his shield up into the ready position again. If Edmund tagged him now, Oreius would berate him quite strongly for not minding his footing and taking too many chances just to win._

_Edmund noticed that his brother was vulnerable, and took advantage, moving in with an attack of his own, a powerful, horizontal slashing blow across his body. Peter pulled back, already prepared to bring his shield around to catch the blow that Edmund had never been able to successfully use against him. It was a good strong move for fighting someone without a shield, but when Peter used his shield, it was much too easy to block._

_As he started to move his shield into place, pulling his leading foot back to shift his weight to take the blow, he felt his supporting foot slip from beneath him. The shift in weight had over-balanced him. He reeled to catch himself, still trying to get his shield in place to block Edmund's incoming strike._

_Edmund's eyes widened, and Peter could tell he was trying to check the force of the blow, but there wasn't time. He met his brother's eyes, already accepting what was about to happen. There was no way he could get his balance back in time to catch the blow. All he could do was brace himself and hope, by some miracle of Aslan's grace, that Edmund could manage to pull the blow._

_Instead, he felt the sword impact his side, driving the breath out of him. At first, there was no pain, only the sensation of impact. One heart-beat, another, as he and Edmund stood there, frozen. __**Then**__ the pain came, washing over him in a torrent that had him letting out a surprised little breath that turned into a grunt of pain._

_Edmund yanked his sword back, but it was too late. The pain had taken hold of him, and Peter swayed for a moment, before his vision hazed and went dark. He didn't remember crashing to the ground, but the when his vision cleared, he was lying on the ground, his head cradled in his brother's lap, his brother's fingers fumbling to remove his helm._

_He could feel a growing pool of dampness beneath him as Edmund got his helm off before tearing a strip off his tunic and wadding it up into a makeshift bandage to press against his side. "Oh, Aslan…Peter, stay with me, dammit," Edmund swore, pressing harder against the wound to try to stem the flow of blood. "Don't you dare die on me, Peter. You'll be fine. Oreius will bring a healer, we'll get you patched up and into bed and when Lucy gets home she'll give you her cordial and you'll be on your feet again in no time."_

_Peter looked up into his brother's panic-stricken eyes. He wanted to say something to reassure his brother, but something was telling him that it was hopeless. He had been hurt before, and he knew this time it was truly serious. With Lucy gone to Owlwood, her cordial wasn't available to administer to him. Despite the pressure Edmund was placing on the wound, Peter could feel the bleeding continuing, and he was growing colder with each passing moment._

_He closed his eyes, taking a breath, trying to do anything to banish the pain and the chill that was wrapping around him, but after a moment forced his eyes open to meet his brother's. "No…no time…Ed. Not…not going to…to make…make it."_

"_Yes you are! You're High King Peter, the Magnificent. Aslan appointed you…you're not going to let him down by dying here," Edmund said in a fierce whisper. "Oh, god…Aslan! Aslan, if you can hear us, help us, please!" Edmund screamed to the sky._

_Another cough wracked Peter and he tensed as pain tore through his body, radiating from the deep wound in his side. "You…you'll have to be the Magnificent one…Ed. Take care of…of Su and Lu." He coughed yet again, his voice growing weaker, feeling the blood beginning to trickle out the corner of his mouth. "You…you're…High King…now."_

"_Goddammit, Peter! Don't you die on me! It's not your turn!" Edmund begged and swore at his brother, trying to keep Peter focused._

_Peter looked up and met his brother's eyes squarely. He was barely clinging to consciousness, but he knew he had to try to give his brother some comfort. He knew Edmund all too well. This was going to destroy him. He mustered what remained of his strength and tried to convey with his eyes that he accepted what was about to happen._

"_I…I love…you…Ed. Give…" he swallowed hard, trying to bring some moisture back to his throat so he could get the words out. "Give…my…love to…to the girls…" Another swallow as his breaths grew weaker and shallower. "Don't…don't cry for me. It…it…wa…wasn't…your…f...f..."_

_His breath caught in his throat as the cold overwhelmed him. He shivered violently as the darkness rushed back in to claim him._

Peter stared at his brother, the memory of dying…that cold, the pain…he shivered again at the remembrance, and Edmund panicked. "Peter? What is it? What's wrong?"

Peter blinked and refocused his attention on his brother. "Nothing, Ed. Nothing's wrong. Just…thinking." He suddenly realized that his brother was trembling, badly, and he gathered the younger boy up in his arms, simply holding him. Edmund pressed his head to Peter's chest, just above his heart.

"Oh, Peter…I'm so sorry! It was all my fault! I was so eager to win….should've used less force…should've pulled the blow…" Edmund choked out, his trembling growing worse.

Peter could tell that his little brother was on the edge of a nervous breakdown. He needed to get Edmund back into Cair Paravel, get him warmed up, before they went any further into this. "Ed, I already told you I wasn't angry. Ssshh…it's all right. Calm down, I'm right here."

Edmund clutched him even more tightly, and Peter sighed, realizing that Edmund wasn't going to let go of him any time soon. Shifting slightly, he managed to support Edmund with one hand as he awkwardly hooked Rhindon's sheath to the belt he was wearing under the heavy cloak that was draped over his shoulders. Once his hand was free, he reached up and shrugged the cloak off his shoulders, wrapping it around Edmund and tucking it in tight, hoping some of the warmth would seep into his brother and help him relax.

Slowly, it seemed to be working, although Edmund still clung to Peter. The High King sighed and gently brushed his brother's hair off his forehead, the gentle touches seeming to relax Edmund even further as the warmth from the robes penetrated and eased his trembling. In the late afternoon light, Edmund looked pale and wan, as if he hadn't been sleeping or eating well.

_Oh, Edmund…you blamed yourself. I knew you would, but I was hoping that you wouldn't. What have you done to yourself?_ Peter thought, a rush of love and concern enveloping him. Given Edmund's reluctance to let go, and Peter's anxiousness to see his sisters and know that they were well, Peter finally decided to take matters into his own hands. Stooping down, he scooped Edmund up, one hand under his knees, and one supporting his back.

"Peter? What…" Edmund began raising his head and meeting his brother's warm blue eyes.

"Hush, Ed. I'm going to take care of you," Peter ordered him gently, forcing him to rest his head back on Peter's shoulder. With Edmund firmly cradled in his arms and – _I'm not going to be able to carry him much longer_, Peter thought wryly – the sun setting behind him, Peter headed up the gravel path leading to the palace.

Aslan was waiting for them just outside the door. The great Lion's tail swished lightly, and the bright golden eyes gleamed with love and a hint of concern for the boy cradled in the High King's arms. Peter smiled at the Lion, although his own concern was building with each moment that Edmund remained silent. "He'll be all right," Peter whispered. "I'm going to take care of him."

Aslan nodded gravely. "Tend your brother. I will bring your sisters to you."

"Thank you," Peter whispered, putting everything he was feeling yet couldn't verbalize into those two words. Thanks for bringing him back to his siblings, thanks for watching over them, thanks for bringing them to Narnia in the first place.

"You are most welcome, Peter," Aslan replied, a smile crossing his face as he watched Peter carry Edmund inside the palace, before he turned and followed the two Kings inside.

Just inside the door, Edmund raised his head and looked directly at Aslan. "Aslan, what are we going to do about the other Narnians? Peter has been dead for two weeks. They're going to be shocked when they see him…even the staff here."

Peter turned and looked at Aslan as well. "Two weeks? It's been two weeks?"

Aslan nodded gravely. "Yes, Peter, it has. Narnia is not the only Kingdom where I must act, and this was the soonest that I could get here." He looked directly at Peter. "I am sorry that I could not arrive sooner, but all things must happen in their time."

Peter was dumbstruck to hear Aslan apologizing to him, but after a moment, he managed to nod. "I understand, Aslan…as for what we do about our people…I will stand before them and make an announcement. May I ask that you stand with me, and explain as well, Aslan?"

Aslan nodded. "I shall." The Lion looked grave. "We will discuss it later, however. For now, rest and spend time with your family. There are no concerns more urgent than that today."

Peter returned Aslan's nod and began moving through the palace, carrying Edmund. Three years of living in Cair Paravel had taught him all the quickest ways through the halls, and he made use of them now, to avoid the staff. He didn't want to avoid them, but in order to avoid the problems that Edmund had mentioned, it was best if Peter kept his resurrection a secret.

Peter was about to go into Edmund's rooms when he paused, realizing that it would be too easy for people to find them there. Changing directions, he headed down the hall to his own rooms. Edging the door open with his foot, he pushed it closed behind him.

He passed quickly through the sitting room, bypassed his private study, and headed into his bedroom. His suite was dark, and musty-smelling, which he supposed was only natural if it had been shut up for two weeks. He placed Edmund on the bed and then stepped away, intending to open the drapes that hung over the doors leading to the balcony to let in some light and fresh air, but Edmund seized his hand and cast him a pleading, anxious look.

Peter eased back to sit on the edge of the bed, and wrapped his hands around Edmund's. "I'm not going anywhere, Ed," he promised. "I'm just going to go over and open the doors and let some sun and some fresh air in."

Edmund continued to stare at him, fear and anxiety in the chocolate-brown depths. That look tore at Peter's heartstrings. Just how much had Edmund suffered in the last two weeks? "I promise, Ed. I'm just going over to the balcony. I'm not going to disappear."

Edmund stared into Peter's eyes for several long moments, before he nodded slowly and released Peter's hand, although he was obviously reluctant to do so. Peter leaned forward and kissed him on the forehead, to reassure him, before rising to his feet and walking over to the balcony. He pulled back the drapes and tied them out of the way, and then unlocked and pulled open the balcony doors. The sun had set almost completely by this time, but there was still a gentle breeze blowing off the sea, carrying with it a crisp, salty aroma and Peter breathed in the familiar, welcoming scent.

He turned back around and saw Edmund watching him like a hawk watches a mouse just before it strikes. He moved back over to the bed and climbed on, scooting back so he was leaning against the headboard. He pulled Edmund up with him and settled the younger boy on his shoulder, snuggling close to him in order to give Edmund the comfort that he obviously needed. "I'm not going anywhere, Ed," he soothed his brother, who clung to him.

"I'm sorry, Peter…I'm so, so sorry…" Edmund choked out, before his breath caught in a hiccupping sob.

"Hey, you don't have to cry, Ed. I'm not angry. I remember what happened. It was an accident. I don't blame you," Peter whispered, holding tighter to his brother.

There was a gentle tapping on the outer door of the suite, and Peter called out, not wanting to get up and disturb Edmund. "Come in!"

There was a moment of silence before Aslan paced into the room, and trailing him…

"_**Peter!!!**_"

Peter winced at the volume of the two Queens' shrieks. _So much for no one knowing that I've come back_, he thought, knowing that there were probably very few people who hadn't heard Susan's and Lucy's screams. A moment later, all the breath rushed out of him as his sisters piled on top of him, hugging and kissing him as if they would never let him go.

"Oh, Peter! We thought…"

"How is this possible? Praise Aslan!"

"When we heard the news…we didn't want to believe…"

His sisters' words tumbled all over each other and Peter was having difficulty sorting out what they were saying through their tears and their kisses. He was just as happy to see them as they were to see him, and he barely noticed how soggy his tunic was getting. He _did_, however, notice that it was hard to breathe with three other people piled on top of him.

Aslan seemed to notice it too. "Dear ones, give your brother a chance to breathe," the Lion chuckled softly.

As if the Lion's words were an incantation, Susan and Lucy leapt off of Peter as if they had been scalded. Tears streaked down their cheeks as they stared at Peter, obviously wanting nothing more than to grab him and never let go. Peter gently nudged Edmund off of him, and rose to his feet, reaching out to embrace Susan, who threw herself into his arms.

Susan hugged him tightly, and when Peter returned the hug, the oldest Queen burst into tears and began sobbing into his shoulder again. Peter gently patted her back and began rocking lightly. It was the right thing to do, although it was somewhat foreign to him. He and Susan were the oldest of the four of them, so their bond was always a bit different than the bonds they had with the younger two. They were less demonstrative with each other than they were with Edmund and Lucy, choosing most of the time to express their affection through words, exchanging favors, or when they were in private, rather than by touch.

Peter rocked Susan for several more minutes as she brought herself under control. When the Gentle Queen had cried herself out, Peter released her and gently placed a hand under her chin, raising her head so he could look her in the eyes. "I'm all right, Su."

That was almost enough to start Susan crying again, but she composed herself bravely and nodded. Peter had no doubt that there would be many tears in Cair Paravel over the next few days. He turned next to Lucy and knelt down in front of her. Although she had grown a lot in the last three years, he still towered over her, although she was beginning to show every sign of being tall and slender like Susan and their mother.

Lucy didn't hesitate to throw her arms around him and burst into a fresh flow of tears. Lucy, who was always so exuberant, so free about expressing her emotions…he pulled her to him tightly, knowing that, although his death – and was _that_ an odd thought! – had undoubtedly hurt all of his siblings, Lucy would have felt it more sharply than either of the other two, just because of how much she idolized her older siblings, and how freely she gave her love.

Like Susan, he allowed her to weep herself out on his shoulder. His tunic was quite soggy by now, but he didn't care one whit. He was simply grateful to be here, among his siblings, with Aslan looking on. He was incredibly blessed, and he knew it.

Lucy cried herself out, although she still looked rather teary-eyed when she finally pulled back. He had no doubt that he would be comforting her a great deal over the next few days. He leaned close to her as she composed herself and whispered in her ear. "I love you, Lucy. I'll always be here for you."

Lucy blinked back another bout of tears, instead turning and burying her face in Aslan's thick mane. The great Lion turned his head and breathed onto the youngest Queen, a gentle purr rumbling from his throat as he comforted her. A moment later, Peter heard her choke out, "Thank you Aslan…bless you for all that you have done."

Apparently unable to contain herself any longer, the youngest Queen backed up and then turned and fled. Susan looked between Peter and her little sister, but Peter nodded for her to follow Lucy. Susan still looked torn, and Aslan rose to his feet.

"Come, beloved daughter. Your brothers need some time alone. Peter will still be here tomorrow."

Susan looked between Aslan, Peter, and Edmund, and slowly nodded, before turning and following the great Lion out of the room as they went in search of Lucy. Peter followed them to the door and carefully closed it behind Aslan, although he didn't lock it. His sisters would be back later that night, he was certain.

He slipped quietly back into his bedroom, to see Edmund sitting upright and alert on the bed, his eyes fastened to the doorway as he waited for Peter to come back, holding his breath in fear. Peter quickly climbed back onto the bed and settled against the headboard, Edmund cradled in his arms.

"Don't leave, Peter," Edmund whispered softly after they had sat in silence for some time. The sun had set completely by the time Susan, Lucy, and Aslan had left, but Peter's bed was angled towards the balcony in such a way that they could watch the stars appearing in the night sky, and that is what they had done. No words had been exchanged between them during that time, because no words were needed. Edmund needed the reassurance of knowing that Peter was beside him, alive and breathing, and Peter desperately needed to comfort his brother in order to comfort himself.

"I'm not going anywhere tonight, Ed," Peter replied, his voice soft as he stroked Edmund's hair back from his forehead.

"Not just tonight, Peter. Don't ever leave again," Edmund begged, holding his older brother even more tightly.

"Ed, you know that I can't promise that," Peter whispered. "We don't ever know what will happen in the future. Aslan told us that before we were crowned. But as long as I have breath in my body, I'll be here for you, Ed. That I can promise."

Edmund burst into tears again and buried his face against Peter's shoulder. Peter went back over the words he had said and winced. _Poor choice of words, _he thought. He should have known that any mention of death would set his younger brother off again. Edmund obviously blamed himself for what had happened, but now wasn't the time to discuss it with him. Now was simply the time to hold him, and comfort him, and simply enjoy being alive to do so. So Peter held his brother tight, rocked him back and forth, and comforted him until Edmund fell into an exhausted sleep. Peter stayed awake for some time afterwards, watching the stars, until the sound of the gentle breeze off the ocean, and his brother's steady breathing, eased him off to sleep as well.

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"_No! Peter, no!"_

Edmund's scream pierced the quiet of the night, and Peter jerked awake, cracking heads with his brother as Edmund launched himself into a sitting position. Peter yelped and collapsed backwards, his hands automatically flying to the place on his head that was throbbing in pain.

After a moment, the stars cleared from his vision and Peter looked at his brother, to see Edmund looking down at him, his eyes wild with fright and horror. Peter shoved himself upright and onto his knees, catching Edmund up in a fierce hug, just as Susan, Lucy, and Aslan hurried into the room, drawn by the sound of Edmund's scream.

"Ed! Ed, it's all right!" Peter cried, gently shaking his brother and briskly rubbing his arms and back to try to shake him out of whatever nightmare he was trapped in. He had no doubt that it had something to do with the accident, given the wild look of panic on his brother's face.

Susan and Lucy leaped onto the bed and caught Edmund up in a joint embrace, adding their efforts to waking him up. Peter looked over at them, a questioning look on his face. It hadn't escaped his notice that Edmund was much paler and thinner than he had been before the accident, as if he hadn't been eating or sleeping.

Susan kept her attention focused on her younger brother, but Lucy looked at Peter and nodded, confirming his suspicions. "He hasn't slept well since it happened," she said quietly. "He wakes up with nightmares at least once a night. We tried to help him at first, but after the first few days, he started locking the door at night so we couldn't get in."

"He's lost weight," Peter said softly, still briskly rubbing Edmund's back as the younger boy suddenly seemed to come back to himself with a dull moan, before collapsing into their arms.

"He hasn't been eating, either," Susan replied. "We've been trying…but he's been sick over what happened, and…" she looked guilty, "I'm afraid we didn't help matters."

"What do you mean?" Peter asked sharply. He couldn't imagine anything that could keep his sisters from helping Edmund. A horrible, sneaking thought dawned on him as he asked the question and he stared at both of his sisters. _They couldn't possibly…_

Susan looked even guiltier at his question, as did Lucy. They exchanged looks, before Susan sighed. "I'm afraid we blamed him for what happened, Peter," she admitted. "We tried not to…but…it happened while the two of you were sparring. It was his sword that did it. And…I'm afraid almost everyone else blamed him as well. There were rumors…"

"What sorts of rumors?" Peter asked.

"Two kinds," Edmund croaked out, pulling away from them and rubbing his red-rimmed eyes against his sleeve. Peter frowned and reached for his side table drawer, opening it and pulling out a clean handkerchief, which he passed to his brother. Edmund took it with muttered thanks and quickly wiped his face.

"What rumors?" Peter asked again.

"The kinder version was that a group of the Witch's forces attacked us during training, and you took a fatal blow defending me," Edmund said, sniffing a little bit, his nose and voice sounding horribly congested from all the tears.

"And the not-so-kind version?"

"That I was still a traitor and that I did it on purpose because I was jealous of you and I wanted the throne of the High King," Edmund admitted after a moment.

Peter saw red.

"_Who_ in their right minds could possibly believe that?" Peter snarled. "For that matter, what possible evidence could they even have that would convince others that it was true?!"

"I don't know who started the rumor, but they seemed to believe that since I had turned coat once, I could do so again," Edmund replied, and his tone seemed to be full of bitterness.

"Oreius was furious when he heard that rumor," Lucy said softly. "He did his best to quash it, but it wouldn't die. He pointed out that _he_ had been the one who was instructing you, that it _was_ an accident, and that if any blame was to be placed, it should be on him, because he was the one who insisted on having you do a live steel drill."

Peter's heart ached at the thought of the noble Centaur being willing to shoulder the blame of an entire country in order to spare his brother that condemnation. "That is something that I will have to address tomorrow," Peter vowed softly, looking to Aslan for confirmation. The great Lion nodded his elegant head, and Peter could see some of his own anger sparking in Aslan's eyes. Aslan had died for Edmund, after all…he had pardoned him and forgiven him, and for any of the Narnians to think that Edmund was still a traitor was throwing Aslan's sacrifice away as meaningless.

Aslan looked at the four monarchs who were all still holding onto each other as if they didn't want to ever let go. "Night is still upon us, my beloved children. Sleep well for this night. I will guard your sleep, and tomorrow, we will address the matter of your brother's return."

Peter gently tugged his siblings back towards the head of the bed, and after some fussing and arranging of the pillows, ended up in a half-reclining position, with Edmund practically in his lap, the younger boy's head pillowed on his shoulder, Lucy stretched out beside him, her head resting on his thigh, with Susan snuggled on his opposite side, her arms wrapped around him like a warm blanket.

Peter sighed, but settled in to sleep for the remainder of the night, his right hand gently smoothing back Edmund's hair, while his left arm pulled Susan close. His eyes met the golden ones of Aslan as his siblings dropped off to sleep, and he watched as Aslan lay down on the rich carpet in front of the door, guarding them, just as he had promised.

"Aslan?"

"Yes, Peter?"

"Thank you…I love you."

A deep chuckle echoed through the room. "You are most welcome, my son. I love you. Now sleep."

Peter nodded and shifted position ever so slightly, so as not to wake his siblings, before closing his eyes and drifting back into slumber.

************************************************************************

"Peter, are you sure that you want to do this?"

"Ed, that's the third time you've asked me. I'm the High King. It is my duty. I cannot allow everyone to go on believing I am dead. Susan and Lucy already sent out the notifications for all of our people to come to Cair Paravel for a special announcement. They have come."

It had been a very hectic two days since Peter's miraculous return. Aslan had remained with the four monarchs, ready to stand alongside Peter as he made his first public appearance among the Narnians. Peter's return had shocked, surprised, and excited everyone who served their monarchs. Peter had no doubt that word of his return was already spreading across the width and breadth of Narnia, and the conflicting rumors would no doubt create confusion…confusion which he and Aslan needed to remedy as soon as possible.

Peter checked his appearance in the full-length mirror. Because he was making a formal appearance in front of all of the citizens of Narnia, he had chosen to dress in his most formal attire, as had his siblings. He considered his choice. Black leggings which almost seemed to be molded to his legs, tucked into knee-high, black boots made of the softest leather that could be procured. He also wore a long-sleeved undershirt made of golden silk, with a high, stiff mandarin collar made of a heavily embroidered scarlet silk. Over the top of the golden shirt was a knee-length tunic made of heavy scarlet velvet, embroidered with Aslan's image in golden silk thread. The tunic was secured with a matching black leather belt that fastened around his waist, just below the embroidered lion on the tunic, and from the belt hung Rhindon, in a brand new sheath made of soft black leather with scarlet and gold embroidery on it.

Around his neck he wore a heavy golden chain, a torc of office hanging from the chain. He rarely had reason to wear the torc – his crown was usually more than enough to suffice on most occasions, but for his most formal appearances, it was essential, since it was simply one more piece that confirmed his rank. He also had fastened a cloak made of plain, unadorned golden satin around his shoulders, and it fell to the floor and dragged behind him, and was fastened with a broach made of gold, in the shape of Aslan's head.

On his right hand, he wore his signet sealing ring, which he used to sign official documents like treaties and trade agreements. The ring was made of a heavy bronze, so highly polished that it appeared to be gold. The only reason it wasn't gold was because gold was too soft, and given the number of documents Peter needed to use the ring on, the etched seal would not have held its shape. Bronze was stronger and would easily retain its shape. The seal was his own personal seal, depicting his shield – embossed with Aslan's image – with Rhindon's hilt showing behind the shield, all surrounded by a crown. On his left hand was another bronze sealing ring, but this was the one he used for personal letters and "unofficial" documents, and depicted the first initial of his name inside a simple border.

His hair had been neatly combed, so that not a strand was out of place, and his golden crown sat securely on his head, perfectly aligned, and so perfectly fitted that it wouldn't shift out of place short of him being tackled to the ground.

Peter studied himself for a long moment, satisfied with his appearance. He glanced over at his brother, who was dressed to match him, save only that where Peter was dressed in scarlet and gold, Edmund's formal attire was purple and silver and his accessories – his crown, torc, and rings – were also made of silver. The silver contrasted sharply with Edmund's darker coloring, and stood out brightly from his hair. "Ready, Ed?"

Edmund studied himself one last time before nodding. "Yes."

Peter clasped him gently on the shoulder as he headed for the door. "I know this is going to be difficult for you, Ed. Aslan and I will take care of everything…I promise."

Edmund swallowed hard, but nodded again. "I know."

Together, the two Kings headed out of Peter's rooms to meet with their sisters. Waiting just outside Peter's chambers was Oreius, who was wearing his full, ceremonial armor, since he was standing as the head of the honor guard for the monarchs and Aslan that day.

Peter smiled at the tall, black centaur, and received a brilliant smile in return. Oreius had proved his loyalty more than a dozen times over since they had taken the thrones, but he had done more than even Peter would have expected over the last two weeks.

_Peter woke feeling stiff, sore, and achy every place where one of his siblings lay on top of him, unwilling to let him go, even in sleep. It was fortunate that it had been a cool the night before, otherwise he probably would have woken sweaty, sticky, and overheated as well. As it was, he was comfortably warm. He looked over where Aslan had been the night before, and wasn't surprised to see the great Lion was still lying on the rug in front of the door._

_Peter shifted carefully, grateful that his siblings were all fairly sound sleepers. As tired as they had all been the night before, they would probably sleep for some time yet. He managed to extricate himself from the pile of his siblings, and slid carefully off the bed before walking over to Aslan and wrapping his arms around the Lion's neck. Aslan purred deeply, before gently pressing his tongue to Peter's cheek in an affectionate kiss._

"_I need to see Oreius," Peter whispered, so as not to awaken his siblings. "I owe him thanks for everything he has done."_

_Aslan watched the High King carefully for a moment, before rising to his feet. "I shall find him for you, Peter, since I suspect that you don't wish the entire staff to know of your return yet."_

_Peter looked sheepish. "Not yet," he admitted. "I need to understand more about what happened and," he glanced at the – now – very rumpled formal robes that he was still wearing from the previous day, "I should probably bathe and change clothes first so I look presentable. But I don't want you to feel as if you are a messenger, Aslan."_

_Aslan chuckled softly. "It is my pleasure, dear one. I do not take offense."_

"_Thank you," Peter whispered again, knowing that Aslan would understand the message which he couldn't speak – thanks for everything that he had done for them, for the blessings he had already given, and for the future that he had given to Peter when he had brought him back to his siblings._

_As Aslan padded quietly out of his chambers, Peter turned towards his wardrobe and grabbed a fresh set of clothing before ducking into his bath chamber to make himself presentable._

_When he emerged a short time later, clean and in fresh clothing, he felt much more like his normal self. All three of his siblings were still sound asleep on his bed and he smiled at the pile they made, leaning over and kissing each of them gently. A gentle tapping noise signified that someone was at the door, and Peter stepped out of the bedroom, closing the door behind himself._

_As he entered the sitting room, he saw that Aslan had pushed the door open, and right behind him, in the corridor, was Oreius. The Centaur looked puzzled as to why they were at the High King's rooms, but as he stepped into the sitting room and his eyes fell on Peter, a shocked expression crossed his face. For the first time in the time he had known Oreius, he saw the Centaur completely dumbstruck._

Peter smiled at that memory. It was one he would always cherish, mainly because of how difficult it was to catch Oreius off-guard. He smiled up at the Centaur, who returned the smile. No words needed to be exchanged between them, because they both knew what the other was thinking.

_It took Oreius several moments to recover his poise before he was hurrying across the intervening space between him and Peter. He caught the High King up in a fierce hug, so strongly that Peter was almost willing to swear the powerful Centaur had cracked a rib or two._

_As tears dripped from Oreius' eyes, the Centaur could only breathe one word, over and over again. "Peter." It was the first time that the Centaur had ever chosen not to use his titles, and call him simply by name._

"_Oreius," Peter replied, returning the Centaur's hug, feeling tears of his own welling up. Oreius was probably the most important friend and teacher that Peter had, outside of his siblings. Although not royalty himself, the general had an amazing grasp of the protocols of Court, and intimate knowledge of many of Narnia's citizens…knowledge he never hesitated to share with his monarchs if he felt they needed to know it. In addition, the things he had taught them about weapons, warfare, and tactics had saved their lives. For that, Peter would be forever grateful._

_It was just about then that Oreius realized what he was doing, and he quickly released Peter before backing up several steps and bowing deeply at the waist in front of the High King, unable to look Peter in the eyes. "Forgive me, Your Majesty."_

_It was Peter's turn to be dumbstruck. After a moment, he managed to get control of his thoughts. "Whatever for, Oreius?"_

"_I failed you, Your Majesty. I failed to protect you…I was the one who insisted on the live steel match, and I was the one who was unable to bring you a healer in time. I do not know what miracle has brought you back to us, but I beg your forgiveness."_

"_And you have it, Oreius, although I lay no blame on you for any of those things," Peter replied instantly. "What happened was an accident, and it is through Aslan's grace that I stand here today. There is no blame to be laid at anyone's feet."_

_Oreius shook his head. "I failed in my duty, sire, and it is because of that I must insist on resigning from my position in Narnia's army."_

"_Denied," Peter said sharply. "Under no circumstances will I accept your resignation, General. You have done nothing wrong, you did not fail me or my siblings in any way, and I will not have you blame yourself for something that no one expected. If anything, I owe you my thanks."_

_Oreius looked up, startled. "Sire?"_

"_You have done nothing but serve Aslan, Narnia, and my family," Peter explained. "You were willing to take blame that was not yours in order to spare my brother, and you stood beside him when others would not, and when accusations were flying around him. I am proud to count you, not only as a friend, but also as one of the most loyal people I know."_

It had taken some convincing, not only from Peter, but also from Edmund, Susan, and Lucy, before Oreius understood that they did not blame him for what happened in the slightest, and none of them would accept his resignation. Once he understood their feelings on the matter, he again carried himself proudly, ignoring any blame that was cast his way, although with the rest of the palace staff now aware that Peter had returned there was very little blame being cast at all.

Most of the Narnians seemed to have forgotten that they were ever angry with Edmund or Oreius about the accident, but Peter had not. Once he had learned the whole story from Edmund, Susan, and Lucy, he had resolved to take care of this, once at for all. His siblings were in full agreement with him, but, most importantly of all, so was Aslan.

Glancing back up at Oreius, Peter smiled gently. "Thank you." The words seemed so inadequate to express his feelings, but he also knew that, like Aslan, Oreius would pick up on every nuance that he meant with those two simple words.

"You are most welcome, Majesty," Oreius replied softly, and Peter knew that the Centaur general had received the message.

Peter turned and headed down the hallway towards his sisters' rooms, Edmund easily falling into step next to him, and Oreius dropping back behind them. The sounds of their boots were lost over the sound of Oreius' hooves on the stone floors, but Peter barely noticed. Susan and Lucy were waiting for them outside their own rooms. Susan was dressed in emerald green and gold, her formal gown flattering her and giving her a regal bearing all at once. Lucy had chosen blue and silver, a deep rich blue that almost shaded to purple. With her dark hair and eyes, she was nearly a match for Edmund, and Peter knew that his youngest sister was going to be a striking beauty in the very near future. Like Peter and Edmund, they both wore torcs of office (although theirs were smaller and more elegantly wrought, looking more like necklaces than badges of rank), their crowns, and their more delicate signet sealing rings.

Both of his sisters embraced him tightly as he drew abreast of them, and he permitted it. Every time he entered the same room as them the last two days, his sisters had stopped whatever they were doing to come over and embrace him. They needed the contact and the reassurance that his presence provided, and he was happy to give it to them. He knew once they got past their fears that he would simply disappear again, things would go back to the way they had been before.

As they released him, he raised an eyebrow, asking if they were ready, and received nods in return. Together, the four of them moved down the corridors, heading, not for the throne room, but for the outside of the Cair. Large as it was, the throne room couldn't hold every single Narnian at once, and Peter had wanted every Narnian who possibly could to attend this meeting.

The lawn outside of the Cair was packed with Narnians when the four monarchs reached it and stood waiting at the doors leading outside. Aslan arrived a moment later, nodding approval of their choice of dress. Everything was ready…now was the time to start.

At the far end of the lawn, a sturdy dais had been placed, and four wooden thrones had been placed on it, in the same arrangement that was used in the throne room, a space for Aslan left open. Peter indicated to the herald, a Satyr named Farnlan, that they were ready to begin. The herald nodded in understanding and stepped outside, rapping his staff sharply on the stone outside the door and gaining everyone's attention immediately. The gathered crowd, knowing what to expect from the summons that went out, parted evenly, creating a wide aisle down the middle, leading to the dais.

"Presenting, Her Majesty, Queen Lucy the Valiant!"

Lucy glided gracefully forward, her posture perfect, her head held high, and the silver crown on her dark head gleaming in the morning sunlight. She moved regally up to the dais, stopped in front of her throne, and turned, waiting for her siblings.

"Presenting, His Majesty, King Edmund the Just!"

Edmund followed Lucy up the aisle, like her, his posture equally perfect and his head held high. Where there had been respectful silence when Lucy had come out, now there were quiet mutters and a few deep frowns of disapproval. Peter saw some of them and had to take a deep breath to restrain his anger. There was a time and a place for anger, and before they were done this day, all of Narnia would know his displeasure.

To Edmund's credit, he didn't let the mutters or the glares intimidate him. He ignored them as if they weren't directed at him, and reached his throne, standing in front of it while they waited.

Susan stepped forward and out as, "Presenting, Her Majesty, Queen Susan the Gentle!" rang out from Farnlan. Like her two younger siblings, she made the journey up to her throne and stood next to Lucy, head held high.

Peter glanced at Aslan and received a nod of approval from the great Lion as Farnlan again called out. "Presenting, His Majesty, High King Peter the Magnificent!"

Shocked gasps and cries of joy followed Peter as he moved down the aisle and his subjects caught sight of him, realizing that the rumors that had undoubtedly been spread by the palace staff were true. At first, Peter thought that the Narnians would be so eager to see him that they would press in on him and smother him, but they held their places. As Peter reached his throne, he also turned and stood in front of it, waiting. He paused for a beat, before dropping to one knee in front of his throne, his siblings moving with him, perfectly synchronized, as if they had rehearsed this moment.

"Presenting, His High Majesty, King above all Kings, Aslan!" Farnlan cried, as the great Lion paced gravely forward. Every Narnian present immediately bowed, knelt, or paid homage to the great Lion in whatever way they were best suited to. Aslan moved slowly, but stately up the aisle, reaching the dais and turning slowly. He stood in the gap between the two sets of thrones, and looked out at the assembled Narnians.

"Rise, my children," the deep voice intoned, and everyone present immediately followed the order. As Peter and the others rose, they moved back to their thrones – as they had arranged with Aslan when planning out this audience – and with quiet dignity, took their seats, their cloaks and gowns falling in neat, precise folds around them.

Aslan gazed at the assembly of Narnians for a long moment, before he stepped elegantly back, out of the way. He positioned himself between the thrones, and sat down. As soon as Aslan was settled, Peter rose to his feet and stepped forward to address the gathering.

"My good Narnians," he began, using the tone of voice that he had been taught to use when speaking before an assembly. It was low, yet powerful, commanding, yet gentle, and every word carried easily to the very back of the gathering. "As many of you know, two weeks ago there was an accident that had devastating results for my royal brother and I." He paused to consider his words, not wanting to bring up his death again in front of Edmund and his sisters given how uneasy they were about it. "It is through the grace and blessing of Aslan that I stand before you today, addressing you as your High King."

There was a roar of acknowledgement and joy from the gathering, and Peter allowed it to go on for several heartbeats before he raised his hand, gaining instant silence. "However, in the time that I have been back, I have heard many disturbing rumors about what occurred during my absence, and I received confirmation of those rumors with my own eyes this very morning as you greeted my royal siblings and I."

He paused again, allowing the impact of his words to sink in. He saw several of the Narnians shift uncomfortably as they realized what he was referring to. "I am here to address you today because I want it known that I place absolutely no blame on King Edmund or General Oreius for what happened. What happened was an _accident_. It was not deliberate in any way. I do not take kindly to the implications that some assembled here consider King Edmund to still be a traitor, and should I hear rumors of that sort again, they will be dealt with swiftly, and the consequences will be severe."

Aslan stepped forward just then, and Peter stepped back, ceding the floor to the Lion. Aslan looked out at the assembled Narnians and the disapproval on his face was intense. "King Edmund and General Oreius are not to blame for what happened. King Edmund is no traitor, and naming him one is a dishonor, not only to him, but also to me. I have seen what is in his heart, and he has my utmost faith and confidence…as he should have yours."

There were quiet murmurs from many of the assembled Narnians, murmurs of embarrassment, guilt, and shame. They were quiet and only lasted a few moments, before Aslan spoke again, gaining instant attention. "This has been a trying time for everyone involved. There has been grief on all sides, fear, and regret. But I have faith in all of you, that you will be able to put this behind you and move forward into Narnia's future, with our Kings and Queens guiding and guarding us."

The assembled Narnians gave a roar of acknowledgment and a cheer for their Kings and Queens – all four of them.

************************************************************************

_Peter's rooms – later…_

Peter shed the last of his formal robes with a sigh of relief, glad to be rid of the weight. While the formal garments were comfortable without being restricting, he still preferred the looser, less formal clothing that he wore on a daily basis. Reaching into his wardrobe, he pulled out simple pair of loosely woven brown leggings and a comfortable cream colored shirt, slipping into them before reaching for his low, doe-skin leather boots that he wore indoors. The boots were almost as comfortable as slippers, but they were perfect for daily wear.

A knock on the door of his rooms came as he finished pulling on the new articles of clothing, and he quickly walked through into the sitting room, pulling the door open to reveal Edmund standing there, also dressed in more comfortable clothing. Peter stood aside and let his brother come in and take a seat on the sofa before he closed the door. He stepped over to the sideboard and poured both of them a goblet of wine.

It was still early in the day – much earlier than Peter would normally choose wine as his beverage, but given Edmund's still pale face and the uneasy expression, he had a feeling that they both needed the wine's somewhat numbing abilities. The two of them had a great deal to discuss. By common consent, they had chosen not to discuss recent events other than to fill Peter in on what had happened before Aslan's arrival.

Even after two days, Edmund still tended to follow Peter around, and the younger's King's face was still pale and sunken from the two weeks where he hadn't been sleeping or eating well. Peter hated seeing what the grief and guilt had done to his little brother. Edmund had refused, the last two nights, to go back to his own rooms to sleep, as if afraid that his brother would quietly vanish in the night. The nightmares were still there in full force, and Peter had been woken both nights to Edmund's screams.

It was more than past time that they sat down, talked about what had happened, and tried to work through it. Having Peter back had done a lot to help Edmund, but the nightmares were still draining him and making it hard for him to muster the energy to eat and recover. It was a vicious cycle that Peter fully intended to put a stop to, even if it meant that they would both have a breakdown of some type, which Peter was expecting, for his own nightmares were no less vicious. He was just usually woken by Edmund's screams long before he woke from his own nightmares.

Turning away from the sideboard, Peter handed Edmund his glass of wine before taking a seat next to his brother with his own. He raised the goblet to his lips and took a deep drink, sighing as he felt the strong Narnian alcohol rushing through him. The wine was sweet, from the first harvest of grapes from the previous year. "I'm proud of you, Edmund."

Edmund shot him a surprised look. "What for?"

"The way you handled yourself today, during the assembly," Peter elaborated. "I was watching while we were announced. The whispers and the disapproval…I know they must have bothered you, given everything that's happened. But you held your head high and you didn't let anyone see it." He reached over and squeezed Edmund's shoulder. "I'm proud of you."

Edmund toyed with the lip of his wine goblet, having yet to take a sip, a pensive look on his face. "It did bother me, Peter. It brought back…a lot of bad memories. Not just…you know, everything that happened recently. But memories of the Witch, of the things I did to you and the girls. Right after it happened no one said anything to me because of Beruna and the excitement surrounding the coronation. But in the first couple of weeks after that, I could tell that there were a lot of people who were uncomfortable around me."

Peter frowned. "I don't remember anything like that."

Edmund shrugged and placed his goblet on a small end table next to his right elbow. "I think they were careful about showing it when I was with you and the girls, but I noticed it when I was alone with people. It died away after a month or so, as people started to realize that I was putting everything I had into my new role, and for the last couple of years it's been nonexistent. But then…the accident…it just brought everything back into the forefront and just the possibility that it could be true…" He bent over and rested his head in his hands.

Peter's heart melted at the burden that his brother had been carrying. Edmund had always been quiet and a little bit more standoffish than the rest of them. He had more difficulty making friends with people – part of what had contributed to his jealousy towards Peter and that first betrayal in Narnia – and he had always been more serious and less inclined to put himself forward. Things had improved so much since Beruna...the younger King had been more outgoing, enthusiastic about everything they were doing and learning, wanting to do anything in his power to help their people. Peter had been so pleased to see the change in his brother, he must have deliberately ignored the signs of the old Edmund – the fact that his brother hadn't confided any of this to him, that he had been uncomfortable for those first few weeks, that he had probably needed to talk at that time, and hadn't.

"Oh, Ed. Did we make a mistake three years ago? I mean, Aslan told us that what happened didn't need to be discussed, and I think at the time we were glad to just put it aside since we had you back, but did you need to talk about it then?"

Edmund raised his head to look at Peter. "I don't think so. I – I don't really know, Peter. You know that I've never been good at talking about my feelings." His voice sounded a bit choked.

"It takes practice, Ed," Peter told him quietly. "I understand where you were coming from…I mean, it's really only since Beruna that we've been close again, and everything was still so new to us while we tried to figure out what Aslan had entrusted us with, and the girls and I really were trying to spare you and just put it behind us."

Edmund shrugged noncommittally again, before reaching over and picking up the wine that Peter had poured for him. He raised it to his lips and took a sip, before he went back to toying with the rim of the goblet.

Peter bit his lip, trying to decide if he should admit what was bothering him. If he confided in Edmund about his own nightmares…would that help Edmund open up more, or would it just make him feel more guilty for putting Peter in a position where he would be having nightmares?

"I've been dreaming about it lately," Peter finally said, taking another gulp of his own wine.

Edmund looked up sharply, and that look of guilt that Peter had been dreading to see flashed across his face for a brief second before the younger boy smashed his emotions down under a blank façade.

"Ed, I don't blame you, and you have nothing to feel guilty about," Peter told him firmly. "We've been over this so many times in the last couple of days. I'm not saying that my nightmares are your fault. I just wanted to tell you about them – I was sort of hoping if I admitted it to someone, they'd start to go away and get better. Susan and Lucy could sympathize, but they couldn't really understand."

"You don't want to burden them, since you're supposed to take care of us?" Edmund asked quietly.

"I don't want them to know about the horror of dying in battle unless it's absolutely necessary," Peter corrected. "What happened on the training fields…it wasn't battle, but you and I both know that every time we ride off to defend Narnia with our swords and our army, it could happen to either one of us. We've both accepted that – and Aslan bestowed the two areas where trouble is most likely to come from on us. He wanted us to protect the girls. That includes from knowledge that they just aren't ready for."

"Susan has taken a life."

"Yes, but from a distance. She's never had to look into the eyes of the enemy, to feel that moment in a hand – to – hand fight where it could go either way, to feel the enemy's blood flowing over your hand and sword, and to watch the life leave the eyes." Peter took another swallow. "You've been there, Edmund. You know what it's like. You'll understand where they won't – and you've been on both sides."

Edmund frowned. "Both sides?"

"When the Witch stabbed you, Ed," Peter said gently.

Edmund sucked in a breath as those memories, which he had done his best to suppress, crashed over him. Peter could see, for an instant, the panic in his eyes as he remembered the feeling of not being able to draw in a breath, of the pain, the numbing cold spreading through his body. The memories were in his mind as well. He'd been keeping a calm face about it, but ever since he had remembered what had happened to him, at odd times the memory of dying in Edmund's arms had come back to him.

Peter placed his goblet on the ground at his feet, and leaned over to catch his brother up in a hug. "I know, Ed. I know what it feels like, and how it hurts to remember. I understand better now than I did before." He wrapped one hand around the back of Edmund's head and pulled him close, so that his lips were barely an inch from the younger King's ear. "I understand, Ed, and I love you more than ever. If you need to talk, I'll listen. Don't be afraid to come to me. We've been through the same thing, and thanks to Aslan we're both here to talk about it."

Edmund clung to Peter and the High King soon felt his little brother's tears soaking into his shirt. Edmund didn't sob – he cried quietly, with no shuddering or gasping, just the silent tears of misery pouring from his eyes.

"I missed you so much, Peter," Edmund managed after several seconds. "I needed you and you weren't there, and it was my fault."

"Never, Ed. It was never your fault," Peter said fiercely, feeling his own eyes filling with tears. He and his brother hadn't been close for the longest time. Narnia had gone a long way towards healing the wounds that school and their own personalities had caused. This most recent trouble hadn't helped in the immediate time frame, but if it managed to bring them even closer in the long run, then to Peter, it was worth it. He would die for Edmund and his sisters a hundred times rather than see them hurt, although he knew that wouldn't reassure any of them.

"It was my sword, Peter."

"But it was my mistake, Edmund. If I hadn't slipped, I would have been able to stop your blow with my shield, or move out of your way, and it never would have happened. We both had a part to play in what happened, and so did Oreius. That's why I don't want you to take the blame on yourself."

"Don't leave again, Peter. I couldn't stand it if you…if you…died."

Peter pulled his brother even closer. "Edmund, you know I can't promise that. But as long as I have any say in the matter, I'll be here for you and Susan and Lucy. Aslan told us that we will only ever know our own story, and that we never know where our lives will take us. But whatever happens, I will always love you with every breath I take."

Finally, Edmund let out a sob. "I love you too, Peter."

**_Then Peter came to Jesus and asked, "Lord, how many times shall I forgive my brother when he sins against me? Up to seven times?" Jesus answered, "I tell you, not seven times, but seventy-seven times._****_"_**

**_-Matthew 18: 21-22_**


End file.
